Brian Thompson: Today's kids don't know Bugs Bunny

She sat there with a carrot plugged into the side of her mouth. Gnawing on it. It’s the only way to describe it. The kid was gnawing on it with her back teeth, grinding away little bits and smacking her lips while she did it.

My daughter will ask for a carrot before she’ll ask for a piece of candy — who knew such a thing was possible? Not carrot sticks, but a whole carrot. She’ll chomp down to the very end, until her fingertips are brushing her teeth.

She was doing this at the dinner table and I looked over at her. I put my chin on my fist and got nostalgic.

She stopped crunching and stared at me. Then she put me in my place: “Bugs who!?!”

I was devastated. Gobsmacked. Busted up.

What do you mean, “Bugs who?!?” Bugs Bunny! Senior Bugs. The King of Cartoons. The King of Comedy, for that matter. You spend a good part of your life watching cartoons, kid. You mean you don’t know about the “wascally wabbit?”

I tried to make her understand. I used swinging, exasperated motions with my hands … like an orangutan after too many cups of coffee. (Parents always think this will help children understand.) My hands twirled in the air — like I was swatting flies. I tried to explain: “Bugs Bunny! … a rabbit … he ate carrots, just like you are now … he said ‘what’s up, doc?’ … Elmer Fudd chased him around … with a gun … he had a GUN! … Fudd was a hunter … he tried to shoot Bugs, but he always missed …”

She just stared at me, munching out of the corner of her mouth. “I’m not getting you, doc,” her stare seemed to say.

My wife intervened: “Bugs Bunny was a horrible cartoon your father used to watch when he was a kid. They don’t show cartoons like that anymore,” and then I swear I heard her whisper under her breath, “thank God!”

Horrible cartoon! HORR-IBLE CARTOON!!

Bugs Friggin’ Bunny. A survivor. The little guy. Always under duress, yet always cool as a cucumber. Who, I ask you, can eat a carrot while there’s a hunting rifle pointed at them? Not me. I looked up to him. Who would think to stick that carrot down the gun barrel? That’s genius. He was the quintessential underdog. Always picked on and chased, but never ruffled. Always had a comeback line. Boy, did I wish I had great comeback lines like that when some big kid was pushing me around. Where was that Bugs Bunny wit when I needed it?

There were great lessons there. Like if you’re a coyote who can afford to buy all that stuff to kill a roadrunner — bombs, anvils, rocket skates — why couldn’t you afford a nice steak instead? I mean, have you ever seen a roadrunner in real life? They’re scrawny things with no meat on their bones. They’re not worth the trouble. Wise up, friend! Get yourself a bucket of fried chicken, for goodness sake.

Or invest some of that money in the stock market. Diversify. Get out of the desert. Buy yourself a nice condo in Palm Beach. Cartoons taught me about problem-solving, common sense and dividend yields.

They weren’t horrible!

Violent? Sure. Full of crude stereotyping? I’ll give you that. But there were little lessons in there. Like the little guy always lives to see another day, and the bad guy always takes an anvil to the head. What’s wrong with that?

At one point, my daughter admitted she had seen a picture of Bugs somewhere. A “picture!” She kept gnawing on her carrot, probably thinking about her own cartoons. Good, wholesome, educational fare. Yeesh! Anyway, she’ll see. One day she’ll have to defend them to her children. And I say, good luck with that one, doc!